


Strings

by littlewitch34



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Feels, Derek Hale Feels, Episode Tag, Episode: s03e12 Lunar Ellipse, Gen, Hale Family Feels, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Pack Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 08:41:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlewitch34/pseuds/littlewitch34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I honestly don’t know if he’s ever coming back. And part of me hopes so. But another part hopes that maybe he’ll be okay..."</p>
<p>Where Cora and Derek leave Beacon Hills and maybe have a little heart-to-heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strings

They've made it across the country; they're in a two-queen-bed hotel room just outside of Salem, Massachusetts. Derek doesn't know why they're in Salem, except maybe that it's three thousand miles from Beacon Hills. He thinks he needs this. He knows Cora needs it. He's never been the most spontaneous person, but he'd do anything to get Cora out of harm's way. Now that he's lost his alpha status, he feels a little empty, but distracting himself with caring for Cora and navigating their way across the United States has filled that emptiness inside him, just a little.

 

“Lost in your thoughts again?” Cora asks softly, looking over at Derek from where she's curled up in her bed

 

“Only a little,” Derek admits, cracking a tiny smile. He moves to perch on the edge of Cora's bed.

 

“We should go out and explore this city. It's all historical and stuff,” Cora tells him.

 

Derek rolls his eyes. “Historical and stuff?”  
  


Cora snorts. “Hey, I didn't go to formal schooling for years, so you're the one with the most formal education out of the two of us. But Salem, ghosts, witches, stuff... come on. There's museums.” She reaches for a handful of pamphlets they'd been handed when they checked into their hotel room. “Look, see... the Witch Dungeon Museum... the Witch History Museum... the Salem Witch Museum--”  
  
“I can hardly believe that they have so many museums devoted to one thing. They probably all say the same stuff,” Derek replies, rolling his eyes again.

 

“There's also a pirate museum,” Cora finishes smugly. “Betcha that one's not about the Witch Trials.” Her expression is enough to put a small smile on Derek's face.

 

“Maybe later. Or tomorrow. I want to just... lie low for tonight.” Derek looks past Cora to the windows.

 

Cora's forehead creases in a small frown, and she moves to curl in against Derek's side. “You miss them. Don't you?”

 

He knows she means the pack in Beacon Hills. He won't admit it, but he _does_ miss them. Part of that emptiness in him yearns for Isaac's sweet smile when he gets praised for doing something right, or the proud look on Scott's face when they all manage to work together as a pack. Derek even misses Stiles' running sarcastic commentary. When he stops to think about it, he even misses Lydia's lectures on the lack of color in his wardrobe.

 

“I guess a little. They were my pack, after all,” Derek murmurs. Those teenagers in Beacon Hills were his first real pack since the fire, and he knows it, but tries not to think about that too much.

 

“ _Are_ ,” Cora says pointedly. “They _are_ your pack. You're going back to them eventually. I'm not letting you just walk away forever.”

 

“I guess.” Derek doesn't want to tell her that she's right. He doesn't want to open up, admit that his inner wolf is whining and howling and all but begging to turn around and high-tail it back across the country.

 

Cora winds her arms around Derek, hugging him tightly. “They miss you too,” she whispers.

 

Derek's fingers find their way into Cora's hair, combing it, petting her. “You think?”

 

“When we were little... remember what mom used to tell us about packs? Heartstrings?”

 

Derek can't believe Cora remembers those stories; he hasn't heard one in years, since before the fire, when he was still small enough to fit onto his mother's lap. “I remember.” His voice is a little hoarse.

 

“Packs are all connected. And everyone has the strings on their heart-- like little handprints there, of pack, of family, and... even if you travel a million miles, your strings still connect.” Cora looks up at Derek, and just for a millisecond, he sees her younger, before he blinks and she's her normal age. “Your strings are stretched over the whole country, aren't they?”

 

Derek remains quiet for a few seconds, then admits, “Yes.”

 

“We can go back. Right now. We could get in the car and just go back-- I mean, we need to fill the tank 'cause we're pretty close to empty, but--”

 

“My strings are here too, Cor.” Derek pushes Cora's hair over her shoulder, tucking it behind her ear. “I want to go to those museums. Tomorrow? And we can spend time here... and then we can pick new places, all over the country. We'll just drive. And--”

 

“And eventually we're going back to Beacon Hills,” Cora finishes. “Because I think my strings are stretched back to there, too.”

 

Derek smiles, one of the most genuine he's worn in a decade. “Ok,” he says. He reaches for Cora's computer and places it in her lap. “We've got a whole country... after Salem, where next?”

 

Cora shoots him a grin. “I've always wanted to see Key West...”

 

“Better pack some sunblock, then.” Derek kisses her temple and moves his arms around her to start typing things into the computer, mapping out their route straight down Route 1, all the way from Massachusetts to Florida.


End file.
